


Two Spirits

by der_tanzer



Series: Between Carson and King Harbor [4]
Category: Emergency!, Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray finally meets Roy's family, and Johnny tells a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Spirits

The weekend before Thanksgiving was the DeSoto’s last barbecue of the year. Their oldest daughter, Molly, was home from school, though the oldest son, Paul, had decided not to come. He and his wife would be there the next weekend, so they saw no need to make the drive.

What separated this from their previous end of the season gatherings was the guest list. Roy had indicated that the last barbecue, right before Halloween, that it would be the finale for the year, and all of the guys from the station had come. That allowed him to invite Murray and his friends to this one without raising any questions or hurting any feelings.

They went into the gathering without any firm plans, but when Molly, who was a drama major at Berkeley, saw the shy way her bold Uncle Johnny blushed and grinned whenever Dr. Bozinsky spoke, she understood it all. His permanent bachelor lifestyle, his estrangement from his family and attachment to hers, all made sense in the context of this awkward yet pretty younger man. She shook Murray’s hand and hugged Johnny extra hard, hoping that this was the thing that would finally make him happy.

It was Cody whose college experience most closely matched her own, so she ended up talking with him and Nick as they watched Johnny play an incomprehensible tag-like game of Thom’s inventing that had him at one point carrying the boy on his back while trying to keep Jane from scaling the ivy trellis to the roof. Murray, realizing immediately that he had no aptitude for the game, stayed by the barbecue discussing the finer points of chicken glaze with Roy.

The children, used to their parents’ predominantly male gatherings, didn’t question the arrangement of guests. So long as Johnny played with them as much as they wanted, they didn’t notice much of anything. They had considered him their personal property all their lives, as Molly had before them, and though Jane was old enough to begin to wonder why he wasn’t married like her dad’s other friends, she found the idea of him owing fealty to anyone else instinctively abhorrent. It had never even crossed her mind that he could have children of his own. He was theirs and that was all there was to it. Or so she thought that Saturday evening, as she hung over his shoulder, trying to tickle him into releasing her and knowing that he wouldn’t ever let her fall. Right up until Murray cried out in pain, she had no doubt. But in that one second, her small world was rearranged.

Johnny swung her off his shoulder and put her feet on the ground, gently but absently, his attention already elsewhere. He scooped Thom off his back and set him beside his sister without even looking. They followed him as he ran across the lawn, their short legs struggling to keep up, both of them feeling a strange panic at having lost his focus for the first time in their lives. As Johnny grasped Murray’s wrist, carefully examining the burn on his hand, the kids pressed against his legs and tugged at his jeans. He didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s all right,” Murray said, more embarrassed than hurt. By now, everyone was looking at him and he prayed they wouldn’t all gather around. “Roy was handing me the fork and I—I sort of fumbled it. It’s really nothing.”

“Baby, you gotta be more careful,” he sighed. “Just because I know how to patch you up, that doesn’t mean I want to do it every day.”

Murray ducked his head and became aware of the kids for the first time. “I should go run some water on it, I guess. I blister easily.”

“I’ll show you where,” Joanne said, taking his other hand and leading him away. Only when Murray had disappeared inside the house did Johnny notice his little playmates again. Their confused faces startled him and he turned to Roy for help.

“It’s almost time to eat,” Roy said. “You kids want chicken or burgers?”

They both opted for burgers, still uncertain but soothed by the promise of food. Roy put mustard on Thom’s and relish on Jane’s, told them to go easy on the potato chips, and sent them off to eat.

“Did I just raise a lot of questions there?” Johnny asked quietly.

“I think so. Maybe it’s time to come clean.”

“You want me to tell your second grader that I’m having sex with a guy?”

“No, Johnny, don’t do that. Tell them he’s your boyfriend. Tell them all of it, the history and tradition, like it’s supposed to be. They can understand that.”

“You think they can keep it to themselves?”

“I think so. They aren’t big talkers anyway, and if we explain that it’s to protect you, they’ll accept it. They’d do anything for you.”

“I hope you’re right. Otherwise we’re looking at that brush station transfer for real.”

“Whatever it takes, Johnny. I just want you and Murray to feel free to be yourselves with the family. We _are_ your family, right?”

“Sure, you know that.” He looked nervous, but Roy knew it wasn’t the family issue.

“It’s hard to let go of secrets, isn’t it?” he asked gently.

“Yeah. Remember when Joanne was pregnant with Jane and you didn’t want anyone else to know? The day you started telling people, you were almost sick.”

Roy nodded, his eyes wandering to the picnic table where his two youngest children bickered over potato chips. The first time Joanne got pregnant after Molly, they’d told everyone right away. News traveled fast, and when she lost the baby two months later, people who hadn’t heard were asking her about it for the better part of a year. The next time, only their parents and Johnny ever knew of the child who came and went. With Jane, their friends and coworkers found out during the fifth month, when it could no longer be hidden. Again, only Johnny had been in on it from the start, the one person Roy could always confide in.

“Well, it’s not the whole world. It’s just your godchildren.”

“Yeah, okay. But what about Molly? Do you think she’ll be mad that I’ve been lying to her all her life?”

“She doesn’t seem to be,” he said mildly.

“What?”

“Come on, Johnny. She’s a smart girl. I think she figured it out about two minutes after you got here.”

“Oh. Oh, jeez,” he groaned, blushing helplessly.

“I think that’s a good thing. She’s been over there talking to your friends all afternoon, hasn’t she? If I know my daughter, and I do, I’d say you have another ally.”

“Yeah, I know. But she’s in college, Roy. She _knows_ stuff.”

“If you don’t mind, I prefer not to think about that,” he said wryly and handed Johnny a chicken breast on a plate. “Now go sit down. The food’s ready and Murray’s coming back.”

Johnny looked up and saw Murray and Joanne crossing the lawn. Murray was saying something that had her laughing and he felt the tension in his body unwind a notch. It really might be okay.

***

As soon as Jane finished eating, she pounced on Johnny and demanded he play his guitar for her. She hadn’t seen it yet, but she took on faith that it was in the car, or maybe already in the house, and she wanted to hear him play. It was tradition. Most nights when he played he had a new song for her. Something she knew from the radio, or something she’d never heard before. It didn’t matter, so long as he played it for her. But tonight he said he had something to tell her instead.

“Like a story?” she asked, still tugging at his arm.

“Yes, like a story. But you have to let me finish my supper first, muffin.”

“Then eat faster,” she demanded. Joanne lifted her off the bench and unceremoniously sent her on her way.

“You let him eat, Janie,” she said with mock sternness. “He’s not here to serve you.”

But Jane knew better. She sat down in the grass and waited impatiently, staring at him until he finished his chicken and turned around, his back to the table. Murray was beside him, had been all along, but he didn’t do more than pick at his food, though he told Roy and Joanne how good it was. Now, under Johnny’s encouragement, he turned and faced the children, too. Thom climbed up on the bench on Johnny’s other side, while Jane walked boldly up to Murray and said, “That’s my spot.”

“It is?” Murray asked, unsure if this was a joke or if he was really in the way.

“I always sit there when Uncle Johnny sings and tells stories.”

“Well,” Johnny said with his cheerful, crooked grin, “it’s Murray’s spot now, so long as he wants it. But,” he added, scooping her up into his lap, “you can sit here instead.”

Jane squirmed around until she could see his face, her back to Murray as if denying his existence. She still wasn’t sure what she thought about being usurped, but for now she would concede, having gotten a better place. Molly, who knew what was coming, sat across the table beside her father and listened, wanting to hear how he would explain.

“I want to tell you both about the way things used to be, back before your ancestors came to America, when all of the land belonged to my grandfathers.”

“When they hunted buffalo?” Thom asked eagerly. He loved the hunting stories best.

“Yes, but that’s not what we’re talking about now. Way back then, there were special people in the tribes. Just a few now and then, men and women who had special souls. They were called two-spirits because they were both male and female.”

“Ew,” Jane said, wrinkling her nose. “Did they have girl _and_ boy parts?”

“No, sweetie,” he said, deciding not to get into the finer points of hermaphroditism with an eight year old. “Remember, I said two- _spirits_. Nowadays, the white people use the word _gay_ and they say it like it’s a bad thing. And the Indians, today they say gay, too, and they pretend it’s a disorder that the Europeans brought over, like smallpox. But they’re deceived, Janie. Thom. They’ve forgotten our real history. The two-spirits were special. A man with a woman’s heart could hunt buffalo or sew clothes, depending on his mood. He could paint skins and weave baskets and still sit on the high counsel with the chiefs. They were great hunters and brave warriors, and they were also given orphaned children to raise because they were both mother and father. Two-spirits were believed to have great medicine. They were honored and valued, respected by all the tribe.”

“But gay people are weird,” Jane said, sounding confused. “My friend Tammy says they’re all going to hell.”

“That’s the white men talking, sweetheart. Have you ever actually met a gay man?”

“No,” she said slowly, shaking her head. But a suspicion was beginning to form.

“So you don’t really know if they’re different or not, do you? They could be weird, or they could be special and full of love, like the two-spirits.”

“I guess. Do you know any?”

“A few,” he said quietly, and for a moment no one spoke.

“Are you a two-spirit, Uncle Johnny?” Thom asked, the first sign he’d given that he was paying attention. “Is that why you aren’t married?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m just like all the men you know, except I don’t want to date girls.”

“But you had lots of girlfriends,” Jane reminded him, still trying to get it straight in her mind.

“I have, because white people don’t like two-spirits and they’ve taught my people to be ashamed. It’s not safe for me to let people know that I’m different. I might lose my job. People might even want to hurt me. But you’re my family and I know you’ll love me no matter what, right?”

“Right,” Thom said bravely. “Can we play tag now?”

“In a minute. Janie, you still love me, right?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, but she sounded uncertain. “I don’t want you to get hurt, though.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Because now that you know, you have to keep it a secret. You can’t ever tell anyone, okay? Not your friends or your grandparents or anyone. The only people who can know are you and your parents, understand? Otherwise, something might happen to me. I might get hurt or have to go away.”

“Can’t you just pretend?” she persisted. “So you don’t have to go away?”

“No, honey. I’ve been pretending all my life and I don’t—I can’t keep doing it. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life either alone or pretending. And I can’t keep lying to the people that I love, or about them, either. Anyway, so long as no one else finds out, nothing’s going to happen to me. Your daddy won’t let it, for one thing.”

“Are you in love with someone now?” she asked. “Are you going to get married?”

“I—well, yes. I’m in love with Murray. I brought him to meet you, so that all the people I love can know each other.”

Jane, her worst fears confirmed, craned her head around to look at Murray. He offered her a shy smile and she burst into tears.

“Hey, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Johnny asked, trying to hug her closer. She pushed him away and scrambled off his knees, running around the table to throw herself into her mother’s arms. Thom, who took his cues largely from his older sister, began to cry as well. But because he didn’t know why, he allowed Johnny to hold him. For some reason, that only made Jane cry harder. Roy took her in his arms and carried her back over to Johnny’s side of the table.

“What’s wrong, Janie?” he asked gently. “Why’re you mad at Uncle Johnny?”

Jane didn’t answer. She only hid her face against Roy’s shoulder and cried harder. Thom cried harder in turn and hid his face in Johnny’s neck like the little mimic that he was.

“Come on, Jane,” Roy persisted. “You’re not a baby. Stop crying and tell me what’s wrong.”

She sniveled and pressed her face harder into his shirt, mumbling something that he couldn’t make out. He insisted she repeat it until he understood.

“He loves _that_ guy more than us,” she sobbed, pointing viciously at the bemused Murray. “They’ll get married and have kids and Uncle Johnny won’t love us anymore.”

Suddenly everyone was laughing and Jane hid her face again. Johnny stood up, handed Thom off to his mother, and took Jane from Roy. She resisted feebly for a few seconds, and then clung to him, hoping she’d somehow convinced him to reject the stranger without even trying.

“Janie, sweetheart,” he murmured, rubbing her back gently, “that’s just not true. First, I don’t love Murray more than I love you. I love him _differently_ , the way your mom and dad love each other differently from how they love you. And no matter how long we’re together, we can’t get married or have kids.”

“You can’t?” she asked, feeling the first glimmer of hope.

“The white man’s law won’t let men marry each other, even if they’re two-spirits. And you need a mommy to have babies, anyway.”

“You can adopt them.”

“No, we can’t. They don’t let two-spirits do that, either. Besides, I don’t need any more kids, do I? I already have you.”

“Really? You really don’t want more?”

“No, Janie-love, I don’t need any family but you. But you have to let Murray be part of the family, too. Is that okay?”

She looked over at him, taking in his thick glasses and open-throat t-shirt lying over hollowed collarbones, sizing him up for a potential playmate. Murray smiled again, more shyly than before, and she realized he could probably be dominated even more easily than Johnny.

“Will he be my uncle, too?”

Johnny glanced at Roy, who shrugged, and then at Murray, who only blushed.

“If you want him to be,” he said at last.

“Will he let you play with us?”

Johnny decided then that Murray had been talked about long enough.

“Why don’t you ask Murray? He can talk.” He put Jane on the bench before she could answer and she turned to Murray, studying him carefully.

“Will you play tag with us?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I can try. But I’m not very good at running and climbing games. I’m better at board games and—and video games. Do you like computers?”

“Uh-huh. My favorites are Yahtzee and Hawker.”

“You like Hawker?” he asked with a wide smile. “You like to fly?”

“I want to be an astronaut,” she said confidently. “They get to fly the really good airplanes, first, though.”

“That’s right,” Murray agreed, seeing no need to disabuse her of her notions so soon. The truth was, there were no female US Air Force pilots, and that was where space shuttle pilots came from. But that might change before she grew up, and even if it didn’t, she could still be a payload specialist. “You know what, though?”

“What?” Almost defiant, as if there was nothing he could tell her that she didn’t already know.

“I’m a game designer. I made Hawker.”

“You did _not_ ,” Jane cried.

“I did. And I have a new game that I’m working on, one where you actually get to fly the space shuttle. It’s not going to come out for sale until next year, but you could come over and play with the prototype if you wanted to. That is, if your folks don’t mind.”

“You really make computer games?” she asked, still doubtful. Then she turned to Johnny, who was still an authority, in spite of her previous rejection. History had taught her that no matter what she did or said, he never let her down. “Does he really?”

“He really does. Murray does a lot of cool stuff that I can’t even understand.”

Jane turned back to Murray for confirmation.

“Can I really come play the game?”

“Sure you can. Any time you want.”

“Where do you live?” was her next question.

“I live on a boat in King Harbor with Nick and Cody.”

“On a boat?” she asked, studying the other two more closely. They hadn’t done anything to interest her so far, but now it seemed like there might be something to them after all.

“That’s right,” Murray said. “It’s not as big as a house, but it’s kind of fun.”

“Are they two-spirits, too?”

There was a moment of throat clearing and questioning glances, and in the end Johnny made the call. The whole point was to convince the kids that this was nothing to be ashamed of, that it was special and good, even if it had to be a secret, and she’d know if he lied.

“Yes, they are,” he said casually. “Guys, how long have you two been together?”

“Um, jeez, Nick, what’s it been?” Cody asked, furrowing his brow. “Ten years? Maybe twelve?”

“About that.”

Jane seemed to think it over and then turned mildly accusing eyes on her uncle, who was a little bit tired of skating this thin ice.

“Are you going to go live on the boat with Murray?”

“No way. There’s not enough room, for one thing. And it’s too far from work. Besides, we haven’t known each other long enough to live together.”

“So he won’t have to be there when we spend the night?”

“Jane,” Roy said, his voice full of warning. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sorry,” she said, but no one was fooled.

“No, sweetie, he won’t always be around,” Johnny said and Jane was finally a little bit ashamed. She sensed that he was disappointed in her and disappointing Uncle Johnny was one of the worst feelings she knew.

“Maybe I’ll get used to him,” she said slowly.

“I’m sure you will,” Murray volunteered. “Especially when I’m teaching you all the secrets to beating my games.”

“You can do that?”

“Finally, something the kid respects,” Cody grinned and everyone else laughed. Jane, normally very sensitive to the laughter of adults, let them have that one. She probably deserved it.

Thom had listened to all of this without much interest, just waiting for it to be over. He took the opportunity to ask the important question while none of the adults were speaking.

“Uncle Johnny? Will you sing for us now?”

***

“So how come you never played the guitar for me?” Murray asked as Johnny drove them back to his apartment.

“I’m not really that good. It just amuses the kids,” he said humbly.

“I’d have been amused. Your _Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday_ was beautiful.”

“Just because you love me.”

“I do,” Murray agreed. “So, was that true? What you told them about the two-spirits?”

“Yeah, so far as I know. Those are the ways that were handed down. The grandmothers used to tell us about it. Me and my brother. He was always more accepting, but we’re still not close.”

“But—but your parents…”

“They follow the new ways. The white men corrupted us, Murray. Took away our beliefs and taught us to give up our religion and our traditions so we could be Christian. So we could be white. And it’s not all bad, I guess. There’s nothing wrong with European education, and Christianity, and meat from the supermarket, per se. What’s wrong is teaching us to hate what we are. My folks railed against the white man for taking our land and our history and sticking us on that crappy reservation, but then they turned around and held me to the white standard. They said white men were the enemy and then they damned me with the enemy’s words.”

“Do you still think that?” Murray asked cautiously. “That white men are your enemy?”

“No, of course not. Well, in a historical sense, maybe. But I don’t blame you for what your ancestors did.”

“Not my ancestors. They were in Eastern Europe being decimated by Cossacks. We haven’t been here very long at all.”

“Then you and I are kindred spirits,” Johnny grinned and they dropped the subject.

The apartment building was lit up and alive with noise when they pulled in but no one was outside. It sounded like there was a party in every unit and no one heard them climb the stairs and go inside. Better yet, the noise coming through the walls helped drown out Murray’s sobbing moans as Johnny undressed him and kissed him all over. Then he was facedown on the bed and it was Johnny making too much noise, groaning with effort as he pressed into that tight little hole, made even more intense by Murray’s impatience with preparation. He’d skimped on the lube, skipped most of the foreplay, and was even now stroking his own cock as he clenched his ass.

Murray didn’t just do it for the physical intensity. He loved the way Johnny’s breathing shattered when he was working hard to get inside, trying not to force it and afraid of coming too soon. He drew three or four quick, sharp breaths through his nose and held them too long before exhaling, then pausing, and drawing another series of short, staggering breaths. It was survival breathing and Murray thrilled to it, pushing him harder, begging for more.

“Baby, ease up,” Johnny groaned. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he panted, writhing with need. “It’s good. Give it to me, Johnny, please. It’s so good.”

“If you want it, don’t squeeze so hard. Give me a chance.”

Murray forced himself to relax a little and cried out as the thick cock slid home. He felt Johnny try to pull away and clenched up again, thrusting back hard to hold onto him. He whimpered and sobbed at the burning pain, but the pleasure was greater. The hesitant, broken stagger of Johnny’s breathing was exciting enough, but coupled with the sweet ecstasy of hard cock shoving against his prostate, he was close to heaven. He bucked forcefully, encouraging Johnny to do the same, trying to make him lose control. This was always the battle, Murray wanting him to lose his head and Johnny, trained to keep a tight leash on his volatile emotions, fighting to keep it. Murray had never managed to completely defeat him, but he got closer some times than others.

Tonight was very close. Johnny reached beneath him and fumbled for a few seconds with Murray’s slippery hand before finally getting it out of the way and closing his fingers around the length of his shaft. Murray let out a strangled groan and Johnny stopped breathing altogether. He came silently, without enough air even to moan, the rhythm of his body stuttering briefly. Then he drew a deep breath, adjusted his grip, and resumed pounding Murray’s sweet little ass, the relentlessly clenching muscles keeping him hard. He was exhausted, panting and drenched with sweat, but it was only another minute before Murray came, shrieking and thrashing, his face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound.

Johnny let his weight rest heavily on Murray’s back, holding him close, calming him down. He sometimes felt that this was his favorite part. The work was done and they were together, satisfied for the moment but still able to share the trembling remains of pleasure. Murray turned his head, smiling dazedly, and Johnny kissed him, sending another shockwave through their joined bodies.

“Are you okay?” he murmured as he withdrew.

“You always ask that,” Murray observed. “And I’m always just fine. Except I need a shower.”

Johnny lay down on his back, his arms crossed behind his head, and seemed to think that over.

“You always cry,” he said after a moment. “It’s kind of hard to believe you’re really okay when you’re crying.”

“You’ve never cried because something was too good?”

“I haven’t cried in years. Maybe decades. You want that shower now?”

“Sure.” Murray pried himself up off the bed and they went to shower together.


End file.
